Doctor Who: The Other Traveler
by BlueBlazeCOMET
Summary: There was more running, and the Tenth Doctor found himself knee-deep in danger again, this time with the brilliant Martha Jones assisting him. But the whole game changed when they brought a seemingly mortally wounded human boy into the TARDIS. Who is this boy with the red sweater, and why does he react to the TARDIS so oddly?


Pain.

All he could remember was pain.

The orange light of a lamppost blinded him the moment he awoke, flashing in his eyes and flipping his world from black to immediate white. He groaned, holding his hand over his forehead, trying to shade himself when he fell onto his stomach with a grunt. He was leaning against something on top of his left arm, which was numb and tingling with the sensation of the resumed travel of blood. Everything else hurt him, with tiny cuts littering his body, soaking up into his black, shaggy pants, pale t-shirt and crimson sweater. His head pounded, and he struggled to keep his thoughts afloat.

"Where… am I…?" he murmured, trying to lift his head up.

He was lying on something hard and cold, and when he put his palm down he could feel the rough, stony surface of pavement beneath his fingertips. On both sides of him were brick walls, coloured a faded orange from age. The weather was cool but not cold, and he could see steam rise up from a manhole not far from his spot. He managed to crane his neck enough to look over his shoulder and see a bigger road extend to a street behind him, no cars crossing in sight. He could the hum of vehicles in the distance though, and the nighttime wind whistled through the pass as no creature dared to make a sound.

"Gotta… get out of here," he muttered, putting his left hand against the wall. It returned with pain and he realized he might have had a gash on the face of his palm. "It's… not safe… here…"

Every breath was a struggle and every though threatened to lose focus as his brain scrambled to hold on to ideas without being disrupted by agony and exhaustion. He got on one foot and put weight on his other knee before standing up completely, leaning heavily against the wall and smearing red as his fingers dragged against the surface of his support. He took a shaky step forward, not thinking about the pain, shoving the hurt to the back of his head as he kept the darkness out of his vision, fighting against the tunnel that was closing in on him quickly.

Then, he took another step forward. Then another. Each foot dragged behind the last, but he managed to make a few agonizing feet forward. He didn't have a destination in mind. He didn't have an estimated time or a sense of direction. His heavy bursts of breath blew a tuff of his long black hair away from his thick eyebrows and flattened nose. His legs felt like Jello and the bottom of his white sneakers made him feel like he was lifting iron the hard way. His back slouched forward along with his neck, and he had a hard time lifting his eyes so they stopped their tired stare at the ground below.

He heard shouting, then a roar. The slam of a heavy metal door against a wall echoed through the alley and his breath quickened. There was a scream sounding very feminine. He couldn't make out the words but he only summarized once thing.

"Someone's in trouble."

He grit his teeth and forced himself to peer forward, down the passage. He couldn't focus his sight more than five feet, and everything was a blurry mess. His hot breath came above his dry tongue and he couldn't help but taste the staleness of death and dryness in his mouth. He knew he heard rapid footsteps from somewhere, but he couldn't exactly tell from where. The sounds bounced around in his head and the scraping scuffs of his footsteps might has well been coming from above him for all he knew.

"Gotta… help them," he said, making way some destination of his choosing. "Gotta… Get close… And help them…"

He stopped when fingers lost purchase on the wall. He lazily turned his head and saw a large, green rectangle standing inside the wall. He pressed his body against it, huffing as his weight leaned on the object and his right hand found a horizontal bar near stomach level to press into. The lock of the door clicked and it swung open. He stumbled inside, crashing into the inside wall and collapsing into a slump as the door closed shut behind him with a screech and a slam. He was out of breath, sweat mixing into the flow of blood that ran down his temples, his heart racing a mile a minute.

"Come on!" he heard someone shout.

He had to get back up. There was no turning back now. This wasn't the time to show weakness. A few more huffs and he got back up, finding strength in his wobbly knees and forcing him onward, down a dark hallway with a dim light coming from the end, reflecting against the brick wall. He was completely surrounded in darkness, and used the light reflecting off his beaten skin to align himself with the correct direction. A door slammed open in the distance and he heard the tight growls of dogs from somewhere beyond the hall. There were more footsteps, followed by what seemed like the skittering of claws, except the ground shook with every step from the paws. He hastened his pace, each step becoming harder and harder to make with him practically falling forward with every movement rather than proper walking. He stumbled in his meanderings and fell to the ground again, on his knees, hissing in distress. Tears fell from his eyes. There was another scream from that young woman, and he looked up.

He got to one knee and started moving again, feverously progressing and accelerating to a peak that he considered to be a blinding speed. The running was getting closer. He didn't think his heart could take any more punishment and his thoughts were silent as all of his power and energy went into staggering forward. He had to help them. He had to save them. It was his duty. If he didn't help them, then who would?

He got to the end of the hall, which turned a sharp left. He followed the corner into a small straightway that split into two different directions. The running was immediately nearby, and he turned his head to the right. In fact, it was so close that–

His world was rocked as two sizable objects collided with him. There was a screech and a grunt that was not his and he got pushed onto his back, taking up the exposed turtle position. The ceiling was spinning for him and he couldn't keep his pupils trained on anything, not the broken light above him, not the figure with the ponytail and red jacket, not the person with the popped-up hairdo and blue suit.

"What the?" the man with the suit said. He checked behind his back for a brief second. "Where did you come from? N-Never mind, come on, get up,"

The man grabbed beneath his arms and hefted him up, tossing him forward into a run that was much faster than the light job he took up prior. The woman behind him urged him forward, looking behind her for a moment, regretting the instant she did. The delirious, pained teen thought there were rabid dogs chasing them from behind, their tongues lolling out over their sharp canines, panting rapidly and expelling a disgusting heat with each take of air.

He ran bow-legged, not knowing where he was going, not knowing who the people were behind him. Suddenly it occurred to him that the sound of his desperate footsteps was with the other two steps before and that he actively joined them. He was in just a much danger as they were now. He looked up, his canvas painted with fright as they charged at another door, this one red and bigger than the last.

The man shouted a battle cry and the three of them plowed through the barrier with force to spare, splattering themselves against the wall in the next hall for half a second. The woman yelped and the man grunted, but the teen almost lost himself in the confusion and shadows fell onto him from every corner. He was too tired, too weak, to hurt to continue. He was almost willing to give up and let the cold breath of the afterlife overtake him, just this one time.

As he kept against the wall, he got a glimpse of what was actually chasing them. His heart leaped up his throat, for what he thought were vicious dogs were actually something completely different. Two furry beasts ran on all fours towards their location, throwing all of their momentum in their direction. They appeared to be some kind of wolves, except they were way too big, and they almost ran bipedal as much as they did on their fours. Their heads were in the shape of wolves, with dangerous red eyes and sharp teeth that drool leaked out of, but their chests were wide and tall and they stood on their hind legs in an odd, almost vertical manor. With their stride, it was almost as if they were limping, lunching forward only to brace themselves with their strong upper bodies and fall back onto the poor position of their legs. Their fur was grey with death, matted and dirty like they hadn't seen sunlight in eons.

"Oh for Pete's sake!" he heard the man cry, and he was lifted up on his feet again by his arms, the center of his vision returning to him as they ran down the new hallway, which wasn't under any better light than the last. One of the wolves barked and pounced, crashing into the wall and collapsing it somehow under its enormous weight. The teen ran, his gaunt practically a sprint as he used all of his willpower not to pass out, the feeling gone from his arms and legs except the constant sensation of soreness and sharp puncturing stinging. The three of them were chased down the hall, monsters nipping right at the back of their feet.

He didn't realize it, but they soon got to a set of blue doors with tiny glass windows enforced with metal in the material at the tops. The burst through the set, the woman trying to help support the teen's movement but she fell to the floor with a yell as the strength in his ankles failed him once again and he sprawled against the concrete. The man immediately doubled back, slammed the doors shut together and pulled out a long silver tool from the pocket of his suit and pointed it at the door. The end of the device glowed blue and emitted an odd, high-pitched whirring sound and the doors locked into place. Putting the tool away, he turned to find the woman looking over the teen, feeling at his face and looking at the shining red on her hands.

"Doctor, he's bleeding badly," the woman described. "And it's everywhere. I think he might be going into shock, if he isn't in it already."

"Come on then," the Doctor responded, hoisting the teen under his shoulder for the third time. "We're almost to the TARDIS. Just a bit further now."

The teen's eyes fluttered. He could tell he was being dragged from both sides, the woman straining from his left while the man took his right. He tried to move his legs, get onto his feet and work for his own life, but found that he couldn't. He couldn't move, and he could barely keep his eyes open, his conscious awake. The doors behind them rattled as two objects slammed into them with rage, a chilling howl of anger following as the lock threatened to break loose. He sensed the woman and man's pace quicken, still with no idea of where he was or where they were going. What was left of his mind was trying to figure out what those creatures were chasing after them. He liked to believe they were Werewolves, as they were too jaunty to be real wolves and seemed to have a very human-esque stature to them.

The suddenly stopped and the teen opened his eyes to see a dead end at the back of the hall they were traveling with a manhole right beneath their feet. The woman let go of him, leaving the man to hold his weight while she pried open the metal cover. Inside was a yellow ladder that led down shortly to a tiny tunnel. The twin door burst open behind them and she gasped, checking over her shoulder, her eyes widening.

"You go first," the Doctor said plainly, bending down and picking up the teen, tossing him over his shoulder. "I'll be right with you."

She didn't take the time to nod before she threw herself down the ladder with haste, sliding down the sides ten feet to the bottom. The man followed, taking a bit more time and care to fit both him and the teen inside the tiny opening. After the forth step down, he leaned against the ladder and pulled the manhole shut right above him, the steel closing soundly just as the wolf monsters reached the entrance, scraping at the doctor with fervor and ferocity. They barked and barked, their muffled cries echoing through the tunnel as the man made his way down, meeting the woman at the bottom, huffing.

"Boy, you certainly are a big one, aren't 'ya?" the man asked, throwing the teen up once to fix his hold.

The two made their way a bit down the corridor, approaching a tall blue box with a light on top that almost scraped against the ceiling. It was made entirely of wood, finely cut and finished to preserve its age, a door built in to the side with the top reading "Police Public Call Box" The man pulled out his whining device again and pointed it at the phone booth, activating it and causing the door to open smoothly.

"Inside!" the Doctor shouted. He let the red jacket woman go first before he quickly followed. He could hear the manhole getting lifted and pulled to the side a few dozen meters away before the doors shut behind him, firmly closing with a click.

He climbed up the metal platform and carefully put the teen on the floor near the center and immediately went to the controls in the center of the room, flipping switches and pulling on levers as he raced around the ring. The pump inside the pillar in the center of the room immediately started and the sound of two large pieces of metal scraping against each other resonated throughout the structure. The woman went down to check on the teen, whose eyes were sill miraculously open, staring into her eyes. She moved a tuff of hair out of his eyes before looking up and around the ship, searching for an emergency first aid kit.

"Aaaand we're out of here!" the Doctor announced, flipping one last lever as the room began to shake. There was a wild grin on his face and his lower jaw jutted forward in victory before he was almost thrown off his feet. The capsule rumbled violently and the woman fell to her behind, squealing as the teen bounced lightly on the floor. She tried to get onto her knees and stabilize his movement before she was thrown against the console. The man sat in his chair while she put her arm against the edge of the table, looking up at the pilot.

"What's happening?" she shouted over the large racket of the TARDIS screeching.

"The Lycanthropes are hitting the TARDIS!" he answered, steadying himself against the monitor and pressing various buttons over the console. The ship shook again and gravity switched once more, the woman getting annoyed that she couldn't help treat her patient without the environment throwing her off. "Come on, old girl, get going, I know you can do it."

Without the others knowing, the teen suddenly widened his eyes. His eyebrows shot up, and he took in a large breath of air.

He could feel it. Something was filling him and he almost felt alive again. It felt so… familiar, like the gentle touch of his mother that he once knew so long ago. The comforting feeling melted into him, easing his aching muscles and sore wounds. The sensation was so close to his heart, it was like the touch of the universe. He could taste the power of knowledge being presented to him, and he took with graciously. It was if he could look into space and see it in its entirety, spot every planet, trace every nebula and connect all the star systems together in one big intergalactic web. He sensed it all, and even more as time and space opened up to him, seeing far into the past and pushing though of what could be, and what is right now, the possibilities endless. There was something giving him energy, allowing him to take that one extra breath, granting him such a grand sight to see.

The doctor looked up and gave the engine an odd look. He squint his eyes, tilting his head as the room jittered in and out of existence. He could sense something going on. There was something in the air that wasn't quite right, well, abnormal at the least. The TARDIS was giving off some kind of strange energy to something in the room, but he couldn't pinpoint what exactly that energy was and where its destination would be. His eyes traced around the perimeter of the room, following the invisible mist against the walls and sniffing it in, tasting the tangibility as he smacked his lips together. Then, he was abruptly tossed to the floor as the TARDIS groaned and shuddered. The woman looked up onto the main platform after she fell of when all momentum was messed with again.

"Dang it, they're getting through the shields!" the doctor called, desperately working the controls while trying to keep a foot on the floor.

"Why haven't we lifted off yet?" Martha questioned.

The Doctor tapped on some keys and twisted a knob, checking the monitor as he pulled it closer to him. "I can't lift off easily when we're getting attacked!"

The TARDIS shook and the woman yelped. She tried to keep a hold of the stabilizer near her as she felt the air vibrate around her. "What happens when they get through the shields?"

The Doctor didn't answer and instead focused intently on the controls.

The teen sat up, not affected by the tremoring chamber and thrust his left hand towards the top of the console, his eyes wide, his pupils shrunk against their brown irises. The fingers of his other hand wrapped around the metal grating beneath him and he grit his teeth, angling his chin up as he inhaled through his nose. The answer was suddenly clear to him, and his outstretched hand began to glow a healthy green, whispers of wind passing through the TARDIS, flowing towards him as he absorbed power.

Martha watched in awe and disbelief as the large gash along his forehead faded away, merging into his skin and becoming whole again, any trace of blood on his face disappearing. There was a clean emerald aura being drawn into his fingertips from the center of the TARDIS. He shifted to his side and got to a knee, his eyes never leaving their target of focus, his arm constantly elevated. He sucked in oxygen and shook his head softly, shifting it to the side as he blew out his cheeks in concentration. His fingers were still dug into the floor, holding on to something substantial and solid.

It only took a few seconds before the man noticed. The room rumbled and he caught in the corner of his eye that the teen wasn't lying down anymore. He checked him and had to do a double take when he saw the green glow coming out of his hand, pointing right at the heart of his TARDIS, his glorious machine.

"Hey," he began before his attention had to be brought back to the glowing blue screen again. "Stop that, whatever you're doing. Stop! Martha, stop him!"

Martha looked uncertain. She carefully made her way around the rim of the stage to the stairs before she lost her balance from the destructive rattling of the structure and fell down.

"Agh, they're getting through!" the Doctor announced, not caring about his seat, hanging on to the console as he rotated around it, working the interface.

The teen twisted his palm to slowly face up, his entire arm shaking. Martha looked up to see a mystical, almost magical blue tint reflect in his eyes. "Almost there…" he murmured.

"This is it!" the Doctor shouted, and pulled one more lever with a grand flourish. The TARDIS made its call louder than ever and seemed to tilt gravity on its side. "It's now or never!"

There was a loud boom outside. The woman turned her head to the door and could hear the Wolfmen scraping their claws against the only thing keeping them out, barking and howling in rage and frustration, smelling their prey inside their safety cage. She looked back at the man working the clutch. "Doctor!"

"Allons-y!" the Doctor announced a determined frown on his face, pushing in a button. The area let go of its physics and shook harder than ever, throwing up the woman for several seconds. She kept suspended in mid-air, her mouth agape, mind reeling at what was happening. There was the sound of electric shutting off, followed by glass shattering.

"Now." the teen simply stated, curling his fingers for a split second before opening them out and wide, the green flashing a strong yellow for a second.

The engine flashed gold for a moment before humming with a strange energy that came from nowhere, motes of light releasing from the glass and slowly spreading to the confines of the space like a fine precious dust. Gravity tilted and the man caught himself against the controls, the woman drifting into the wall softly before being let down on the floor, bracing herself on the surface against her back. The teen kept his position, his long hair flowing in some invisible wind.

"Woo hoo!" the Doctor cheered, throwing a fist in the air. "We're out and back on course!"

She couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief despite the TARDIS doing its normal shaking that came with space-time travel. A dozen seconds passed and the ship seemed to stable, the room no longer vibrating. The teen's eyes rolled up into his head as he gave one last awake breath, falling to the floor on his side.

Martha gasped, rushing to his side. She checked again for blood and injuries, patting down his body, as well as his pulse and breathing. The Doctor raised an eyebrow, eyeballing the teen before turning his attention to the interface and typing something in, pushing the odd button here and there. The computer voiced out and the Doctor squinted.

"He… He's not bleeding anymore," Martha announced, bewildered. "In fact, there are no scars from his wounds, nor is there dried blood. It's as if he was never injured in the first place."

"Yeah," the Doctor simply stated, intently reading the data on the monitor.

Martha's eyes wandered to the window on the door for a moment before she turned back to the young man. "Where did you take us, anyways?"

"100 000 years into the past, in the middle of the Milky Way, specifically a time period where surprisingly little happened in the universe," he answered, looking at her and getting out of his chair, pushing away the electronic screen. "But more importantly, I gave us time. I want to know exactly what I brought on my ship before we do anything hasty and go rescue Earth."

On the blue screen, blocky letters in orange read:

 _"Species Scan (HOMO SAPIENS): Detected False"_

* * *

 ** _Author's notes:_**

This is barely edited. I haven't looked it over for typos. Granted it probably doesn't have any spelling errors, I've at least done that much, but I can guarantee there is at least 3 typos in this chapter. It never fails. I'm not perfect. But I'm probably not going to go back and edit this. This was practically a one-time shot, and I'm not even entirely sure if I want to continue with this.

This isn't my first tussle with fan fiction. I mostly write Pony stuff, however I do like me some Doctor Who, and I've always wanted to write something about the Doc, especially since there are many important crossovers with MLP and Doctor Who in the Brony fandom. So, I decided to take a step out from that direction and make something totally pure Doctor Who, something from a bit of headcanon that I've made around various ideas in my life.

The doctor in this story is the tenth's with Martha Jones as his companion. This story takes place in the middle of season 2 of the new series.


End file.
